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Genesaris. He never thought he would be returning to the continent again. A wild and prosperous land full of beasts and magestorms, living was a daily challenge for the denizens who called Genesaris home. Soap MacTavish had called Shrine City his place of belonging once, a land shrouded in darkness from the lack of technology and geographic location, until the crowning of the Emperor brought in necessary resources and raised the era to one of enlightenment. Although proud of Shrine Cities progress, Soap would not be returning home anytime soon.
Nah. Instead the Artificer headed toward the Carmine Dominion in search of work and somewhere to call home. A funny word, home. The definition in the dictionary describes the word as somewhere a person belonged, where they can relax and feel comfortable. He exhaled, transforming it into the rough shape of laughter while his hand raked through his orange hair.
"Fucking unbelievable. A place to belong. I have never found such a place before in all my years of searching, and I doubt I will find it here."

On the terrace of a rather posh cafe, Yineffe passed her gaze over the displays below. Mageside City was lively, people everywhere. Academy students mostly, fresh-faced youth hustling about, carrying tomes and hawk feathers, cracked spice and crystals. She took a deep breath, shifting herself carefully.
The bazaar was below, loud, lining the alley with hooting stall-keepers. The drinks were a draw. The cafe served her favorite mint flavored tea, but she was really there to watch the local painter practice.
He was a fascinating creature.
She had been in the city for a time and she had seen him labor over his creations like the world beyond him did not exist. Wearing an navy smock, sat at his easel, his brow crinkled in concentration. He painted beautifully exotic tradesmen and street performers. His face was clean shaven and his light-colored hair was clipped. He was middle aged, Yineffe surmised, the sweeping brush stokes of his work suggesting seasoned confidence.
Artisans were highly thought of in her clan, creativity a rare and desired gift...
“Handsome, don’t you agree?”
Yineffe whipped her head up, catching the eye of the older woman who stood near her table. “Sorry?”
“My husband,” the woman pointed, pulling out the other chair. “The painter?”
Yineffe felt her face twist in embarrassment.
The newcomer was dress in a tight grey pant suit. She was a much older woman, plump, with dark eyes and thin wrinkled lips. On a short leash she ushered two dogs around. Both stood on stick-thin legs and had hair gathered at each joint in odd little puffs. Yineffe frowned, clearly a vanity breed.
“I’ve seen you poking around the public portion of the academy library.” The other woman spoke, sitting elegantly across from Yineffe with a pleased sigh. “You’re trying to study magic, aren’t you?"
Yineffe glared over the rim of her cup and arched a brow. “Who are you?”
“Leanna Bontavia, dear.” She spoke her name like Yineffe should know it. “I’m an administrator for the academy. I have been for years...” With scarre few words, a waiter delivered a white cup and saucer to their table. Bontavia took the teacup in hand and flipped her greying hair with pride.
“I can get you some free training with a professor or two. If you agree to aid me.”
Yineffe nearly choked on her tea. “Aid you how?”
Bontavia wet her lips, thinking. “My nephew and I had an arrangement,” she explained. “I front the money for his startup company, a distillery, and he sends me 60% of the profits.” Her eyes flashed in anger. “I was receiving the money right along, until a few weeks ago. He just vanished. No one can find him.”
“I have a sneaky suspicion,” she continued, “that he didn’t start a business at all and that he was sending small portions of my own money back to me instead, and pocketing the rest!”
She patted one of the hounds heads at her side. “I want someone to track him down and return my money.”
Yineffe paused, looking down to the bottom of her cup through her clear tea. “I do not know you. Why ask me?”
“I’ve asked several people thus far, you are the first stranger. I think my nephew is paying off my friends and family in exchange for their silence on the matter.”
Eyes narrowed, Yineffe considered the offer. Finding a well connected man in this city could be complicated, more so if he had any magical skill. She knew the very basic layout of the city, enough to survive, but little beyond that.
Seeming to sense her hesitation, Bontavia reassured, “it shouldn’t be very difficult to find him. He stands out. Just convince him to return the money and my academy resources are at your disposal.”
“Alright...” Yineffe agreed, although hesitant.
“Great!” The other woman grinned. She took a pad of paper from her purse and scribbled a few notes on it. “That is his name and addressed of his supposed business." She said, handing off the note. "I suggest you start there.”
Somewhat bewildered, Yineffe stood, shuffling on her coat.
Bontavia stood as well and offered her hand. Yineffe tentatively shook it.
“Good luck, dear...”

Caspian Mountain Ranges - Final Fantasy
Character - Vito
Summon - Floki
Background Ambience (If you so choose) - Link
Quest - The Ouread Cargo Raid
The Ouread was a well known mountain range, it's crescent landscape scattered with caves and other yet to be discovered mysteries. The day was gloomy, the sky letting out a gentle rainfall. The sound of the rain echoed throughout the mountain range, complimenting the beautiful scenery. In between the two mountain ranges was a small lake, providing water to whatever life manages to survive the harsh landscape. A strong wind rippled it's surface and blew debris around, sending a shiver down his spine. He sat at one of the many peaks, waiting. Despite what surrounded Vito, he wasn't here for the scenery. A raid was about to take place.
'They should've already made their way through here an hour ago, typical lazy smugglers' He pat his mount of the back, even Floki was growing bored.
The vessel was an airship that traveled through the mountain ranges, the course of which Vito had been monitoring for a while. The airship was used to transport cargo between Blairville and Norkotia, the contents of which are questionable. Vito had learned from members of the gypsies market that the contents included illegal narcotics, and potentially may also include smuggled criminals. While these maybe rumors, the suspicious flight path seemed to reinforce these accusations. No legitimate business practice would use such a dangerous method of transport, unless it had something to hide. The plan was simple. Board the ship, kill the crew, steal the ship and sell its contents. A simple mission which boasted the possession of a new vessel and potentially the acquiring of illegal goods, something that would sell well on the black market.
"Where are you guys? I grow impatient, bring me the goods." The raider whispered to himself, clenching his fist in anticipation. Suddenly, a small vessel appeared around the corner. A wooden bow peering into sight. A small chant was just audible over the winds, three crew member stood on the top deck singing and drinking. A lovely sight to most, but an easy target for Vito. He brought his mount out of sight, ensuring the ship would not be able to see him. He lay waiting for the ship to come into sight, ready to pounce on his prey from above.

'Something happened in the mountains,' he said, voice echoing across the halls of dreams.
Across from him, he watched the elf nod, her eyes dulled with sorrow and worry. Instinctively he reached forth, his eager hand crossing the space between them like a falling star streaking the heavens. Here he can't feel the lush curve of her cheek or the warmth of her soft skin, but his mind conjured the sensations, and it was the next best thing.
'I don't know what yet. They shouldn't be so ... active."
She leaned into the welcoming palm, finding home within the callouses freckling his palm. Within these halls, they work the magic to help bring life to memories, like the warmth of his touch and curve of her cheek. They are real, yet they are not - it's a difficult thing to paint. For them, it did not matter, not when there is so much to be said in just a matter of hours. It is too easy to get caught up within the winding maze of their dreams and memories; the temptation to stay can be an alluring song most can't fight.
'They will figure it out, Harshal,' she said with conviction that made him think she was telling the truth. 'We have our mission; we can't abandon our post.'
And when she turned her face, she placed a familiar kiss on the palm of his hand. It made his skin crawl, causing the song of dreams to beat louder and louder in his ears. The day they parted ways she had done the very same, and now it was replaying before him, causing him to suck in a deep breath that did nothing to quell his nerves. Elves of his homeland kissed their closest friends palm as a farewell to one another; a representation of companionship that would stretch for years to come as they are now bound together. And she had linked him to her, their friendship forever safely harbored in the palm of their united hands.
He missed the smell of spices and smoke wafting through his room; he yearned for the voice of his mother's singing while she baked. The sweet familiarities of a mundane life made him eager to return to the tall mountains of his home, abandoning this mission.
'No, you don't.'
'No, I don't,' he replied, forgetting that it's easy to hear someone's thoughts if you're not too careful. 'Don't wait so long to speak with me, okay? I worry.'
'I promise.'
That promise pushed him back into the world of the living, his brief moment of hesitance making the reunion of soul and body a rough one. Startled awake, the large knight rolled roughly to his hands and knees, the biting morning air causing him to shiver. He has visited the halls every night since he and Shanti departed, hoping that he would meet her there but time stretched into months, and he began to give up hope. They both are connected to the heart of their homeland, so it wasn't much of a surprise to see her there in the halls with the same feeling of dread as himself. The mountains of the Flame Court are alive for reasons unknown, creating a danger that is just as mysterious.
Blinking away his dream, red eyes focused up to the sky, noting the mix of colors of early morning spread above them. The journey hadn't been a terrible one, almost pleasant if he's to be entirely honest. He turned his attention to Jal who slept close by (their bedrolls next to one another) and heaved a sigh of relief - he was the pleasantness. The knight had almost fallen to the temptation of staying inside his dream, and it was worrisome; seeing Jal made it clear that he had truly returned to the real world with only a slight touch of the halls tainting his mind.
"Creator give me strength," he growled, hauling himself to his feet.
Harshal began the morning routine quickly, wanting to feel the chill of the morning, smell the sweetness of the world around him. This has become a habit during their journey: Harshal began breakfast of eggs and bread, wait for Jal to wake up, eat, and talk around the fire before setting out. They've had their fair share of interruptions with beasts and bandits, escaping each moment with only minor blunders. The decision to go to Temple City was made after one particular little struggle that left them with only half of their supplies intact, and he knows he can handle a few more weeks with just the minimum, but he was not willing to push such struggles on his friend.
After breakfast, he would don his armor, for now, he wears simple travelers wear that made it much more comfortable with sifting about their small camp. While separating the rest of their food in equal measure, he kept his eyes on their surroundings, noting the sandy hills and minor vegetation. It was quiet, and it raked his already raw nerves.

You and a group of people are tasked to acquire an extremely powerful artifact from somewhere, but as to where you will be going is still unknown. During the beefing, you were told that this mission was tasked to you by your superiors as a test run of a new technology that has been created. This technology was from a project that had been going on for a few months in the dark. You and group members are the first people outside of the lab to know about this project. It was code name "Project Tempo" and its goal was to utilize a new found temporal space called "W". This space has a few proportions that the scientist have only started to harness. They said that small tests on mice have shown positive results, but prolong exposure in "W" can have adverse effects on the physical body. Following this was a short clip on how the terminological equipment works. In the video, there were 4 distinct electronica l devices in the shape of wrist bands. it almost looks as if it were made of cloth. The first one was strapped to a rat over its wast. Connected to the band was a wire with a button. what the button was pressed quickly the rat became a pail semi translucent blue. same for the 2nt band but rather them blue its red, and the 3rd with Silver and finaly the 4th with a soft Green. "As for what you will be capable of in said "Temporal Space" is what we will be testing" The director of the mission beefing mentioned, "Now any questions."

Decadence in measure cannot oft be maintained; temptation, whilst adamantly resisted, is a cruel and cunning mistress whose lips whisper bittersweet truths.
Who are you to deny this birthright?
Vacant words tantalize the recesses of her thoughts and weigh the edges of a pale smile. The path she gleaned free of travelers allowed monsters to pervade the sanctity of her solitude. The voice so unceremoniously brash held no gender, though she heard it in both her father's and mother's colorful intonations; he ever the melancholy whisper and she the flicker of black rage.
Raw emotion seeded in her heart and bore fruit, and the nectar therein coursed through her veins with each thrum of her pulse: uncontrollable rage tempered by icy calm. Her existence was an enigma-- to be born of both creation and destruction, of order and chaos. With the rustle of nearby foliage, her attention tore from those invasive thoughts and she was bequeathed a momentary reprieve.
Who are you to squander this power that we have bestowed?
The relief of absence was fleeting, for then returns the whispers carried by the warm breeze. Eyes of toxic green, wreathed in a halo of long, luxurious lashes, redirect their attention to the task at hand: she was looking for them-- both of them. Not long ago she felt a heaviness plague the land that has long since dissipated... but was still sensed.
Soft fingertips caress the bulky leaves of a nearby plant, thumb taking care to gently caress the struggling bud shrouded by its fuller brothers and sisters; with an audible sigh, the foliage blossomed at her touch, stretching itself full and surpassing even the hardiest bloom.
"So this is where you've escaped to Xintylin, Colvin... a land bereft of me."
[Enter: Tziporah Arenios]

“What do you suppose it means to be alive?”
The words carry across the room with no destination in mind and drift past countless other people caught in their own conversations. Old wives’ tales would have him believe that conversing with himself is unhealthy, a practice whose practitioners are mentally unfit.
He, of course, knows better. Anecdotally, he knows that conversing with himself helps him think and forces him to better weigh out the situation. Beyond that, though, he’s aware of the fact that in many fields people talk to inanimate objects in order to help them problem solve. People don’t need someone to listen to their problems, they need to hear their own problems… they need to admit that they have a problem.
And so he sits in a café, conversing with no one between sips of coffee.
“If all we feel are electrons repelling one another, and nothing truly touches, then my entire perception of touch is false. Likewise, my eyes only observe two-dimensions but my brain fabricates a three-dimensional image, I’m not actually seeing. So, what is real?”
The cup is brought to his lips once more, only for him to realize it is empty. “That’s…. poetic.” He stares blankly at the empty husk, something barren and devoid of substance. A kindred item that parallels his feelings. Setting the cup on the table, he slouches down and then plops his head onto his forearm. Canting his head to the left aligns his face so that smalt irides encircle the ceramic flask that he longingly wishes to refill.
“I’m unhappy.” Although in truth there is no difference between talking to no one and talking to a cup, it does make him feel a little less lonely.
“Being alive, the fact that perception and reality are all fabricated. These are trivial things. Regardless of what the truth is, it changes nothing… and I know that. But it is a lot easier to worry about something that I can’t actually do anything about than to admit that I’m miserable. It’s easier to distract myself than deal with my problems.”
“Problems like an empty cup?”
Pulled from his musing, he glances up at the server, who looms… no she isn’t looming. Looming is ominous, she is anything but. Although there are hints of dark circles, partially concealed by makeup, beneath her eye, her eyes are bright and friendly. The upward pull of the corner of her lips and the arches of her eyebrow give the impression of a perfectly pleasant person. Although the pitch of her voice is elevated, it is within the range of what might be taken for friendly or maybe interest.
His eyes slip from her face and back to the table. “Not interest, amusement.”
“Pardon?”
“Your eyes aren’t dilated and your cheeks don’t show any indication of flushing. You’re amused because I’m practically laying on the table. I suppose I do look a bit ridiculous right now.”
“Well, just a little. Customers usually don’t lay on the table unless they’re drunk.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re not?”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Well Mister Not Drunk, can I get you anything else. Maybe a pillow and blanket?”
“There is no situation to defuse, you don’t need to joke. I’m not embarrassed. Although, I could use another cup coffee, please and thank you.”
She remains still, long enough for three or four blinks, before finally heading back toward the counter “What in the name of Gaia just happened?”

A small side story began by
@ianthine and myself,
Anyone is welcomed to pop in
It had been atleast two nights since her fateful meeting with the priest. It was an uneasy feeling to the demi-gorgon having lingered so long in one place. She was used to constantly moving, --always escaping from imagined hunters she anticipated could be after her any day now. --but things were different now, --felt different now. Things had changed inside of her and thoughts of a deity that could watch over and protect her soothed her anxiousness. Still her wandering feet, scarred with miles of dirt road, had taken her to the outstretches of the farmland just at the base of the hill. Her mind and body were at odds, muscle memory compelling her down the long stretch of dirt road. --but she wasn't leaving... she just needed to stretch her legs, didn't she? It was a lie she was telling herself. A sore feeling panged in her chest. She was a coward--
Halting in her mindless walking, her grey eyes caught a speckling of blue in the lush green fields that flanked the road. She crouched near the edge, looking at the tiny cornflower colored buds. Five healthy green sepals held eye fetching blue petals aloft, --bright yellow nestled at the center of each flower like a precious jewel. Slender fingers outstretched to graze the soft foliage. It was simple things in nature that made her feel at home. The rural town she had been staying in was loud with life. People going about their days, hustling and bustling. Xildara felt out of place here, and not only for her startling appearance that overcame her at night. Daytime held some respite for the woman, luckily her features remained humanistic during the day, but there was still an odd animalistic air about her that seemed to draw attention.
A soft chiming caught on the breeze drew her attention from the tiny flora. Xildara glanced down the road, intrigued by the soft tingle of metal upon metal. --what she saw made the woman blink in disbelief. Familiar bronzed features and long burgundy hair that fell in dark waves shivered memories to the forefront of Xildara's mind. "Teha...?" The name fell from her lips in a whisper.
Down the road, coming towards her sauntered a figure she had seen once before in her life; when things had become their darkest. Golden eyes punctuated a stern yet stunningly beautiful face, which was supported by a strong and graceful frame. Her eyes held the same luster as the golden trinkets decorating the woman's wrists, neck, ears and bottom lip. The woman regarded Xildara with cold eyes and nodded her head in Xildara's direction politely but continued on without an ounce of recognition in her features. Xildara's eyes welled up, hurt at first, but she suddenly realized why Mateja had acted as a stranger. Mateja had never seen Xildara in her human form. --of course she wouldn't recognize her at first glance.
Mateja seemed to be headed for the village of Coth, leaving Xildara with an uneasy decision. Staring back at the long lonely road and then towards Mateja's slowly shrinking form; Xildara decided this was a sign and turned to follow after the woman. She wasn't sure what she'd say to Mateja, or even if she should tell the nomadic woman the truth, but Xildara knew she had to meet her again, in some way--

The forest was quiet, the wind soft against the trees causing only the most subtle of stir and wave of branches. Sitting in a large clearing Rabbit let the cool air fill his lungs in one deep breath, the winter air was only just turning into spring and the harsh chill of frigid air still lingered heavy in the Moonwood alongside the blossoming of the forest's rebirth. Rabbit's ears rotated on top of his head in response to the soft sounds of his long time home, but in those sounds was also a painful silence - the Dryads were gone. They had already taken the gate to the spirit realm, choosing what the fairies before them had chosen; to abandon the mortal realm and all it's growing changes. Rabbit could not follow them and though he had struggled with it, he knew today was the last day he could delay; today would be the last day he remained in the Moonwood, the only place he had ever known. Standing up quickly Rabbit's garish attire stood out like a sore thumb in the subtle green and browns, the patterns and colors blending into a bizarre but fitting appearance for the unusual creature that Rabbit was. His 'name' told the story of what he was in many ways, standing five foot nine inches Rabbit was a bipedal white hare, his large pointed ears making his height appear even larger and adding to a sense of unease he exuded to those who weren't used to seeing him.
In ways he felt wrong, but in others he was very inviting - to peer at Rabbit was like peering at nature itself, beautiful but also dreadful. Turning on his 'heels' Rabbit stalked toward a game path he knew lead beyond the borders of his home, his twin swords dangling at his side filling the forest with the soft jingle of loose metal in motion. As he went creatures big and small offered their goodbyes, the normally elusive denizens of the Moonwood saying a silent farewell to their constant protector - they too felt the melancholy of his departure and the loss of the Dryads, and while the animals lacked the means to truly express it they felt compelled to see Rabbit one last time. Deer stood beside wolf, hunger and territorial disputes left aside for the loss of their Knight.
"The Moonwood won't fall without me, I am but one." Rabbit reminded them as he walked, his somber expression not hiding his regret for leaving them unguarded. A part of him, the largest, considered simply staying in his home and fighting to protect it as he always did; but he knew he could not. His mothers would never forgive him for remaining when told to leave, and he had a feeling the Moonwood would function fine without him as it always had before his birth. As quickly as the woodland creatures had arrived they also vanished, returning to their constant struggle against the Moonwood itself and each other in turn.
With each soft step he grew closer to the edge of the Moonwood, his mind focusing with clarity in turn. The world was vast, and the Moonwood would be just one place he would remember fondly in his lifetime - a lesson his mothers hoped to pass to him, to experience what the world had to offer and decide for himself if it was a place he wanted to be. The trees cleared all at once, and Rabbit for the first time viewed the wide plains and sights of Terrenus and felt the weight of the journey on his shoulders. A whole new world lay just beyond, and the excitement had Rabbit's nose twitching with anticipation and excitement!
Adventure awaited!
Location: Western Edge, Moonwood, Terrenus
Destination: ???
OOC: (This is an Open RP, feel free to take part and bring your own stories!)

~*~ Ten miles outside of the boundaries of Tia ~*~
Kyra looked worse for wear as she walked into her tent only to find several people sitting with in the tent waiting for her. It looked like the whole Nichole Family were sitting in chairs and watching. Each of them looked rather tired as if they have not slept in days, which was partially true.
Kyra recounted how they took a stand outside the gates of their school. They opened up the school and took a stand against the darkness that was plaguing the city of Tia. However it was overwhelming and more powerful than Kyra could ever imagine. On top of that, a deadly virus/infection was weaponized which caused the deaths of countless Tian brethren. Perhaps it was the goddesses watching over Kyra, but she knew it was time to leave, and thus the school fled through the underground tunnels of the school. They accepted as many refugees as they could before they sealed the entrance doors. The group composed of students and refugees fled for what seemed like hours, running at a quick pace. Behind them they heard hard thuds and shifting of the earth. Not knowing what it was, the adrenaline kicked in and the fleeing party ran faster fearing death.
Once they reached the open air, the refugees did not stop, for Eleria, Daughter of Selena sprouted her wings and flew forward, becoming a beacon in which the group could follow through the darkness. It wasn’t until another ten miles that they finally stopped in order to catch their breath. Ironically as the massive group of people traveled it seemed as more people who were fleeing the city began to intertwine with the traveling party and nearly doubling their size. Kyra set up several medical stations and began running magical tests in order to clear new applicants to their groups. Those who were infected where frozen by magic and reinforced by protective spells until they can find a cure. The problem however was no longer the virus, but the logistics of the situation. Kyra did not have a way to feed this many people. Sure they had supplies that several hundred people carried, but it could not feed tens of thousands of refugees. They needed help. Kyra had ordered several dozen of search parties to travel out into the night to hunt wildlife for food and forage as much as they can. The students began utilizing their magic and created homemade shelters for people to sleep in to provide some protection from the outside weather.
However their magic was limited and soon they grew tired as well. Something had to be done.
“Kyra. If we don’t decide our next course of action, many people will die. We cannot allow this to happen. If what the reports say are true, it is possible that we are the last of Tian culture as we speak.” Natalie did not make eye contact as she leaned back into her chair and closed her eyes. Kyra could tell that Natalie, for a powerful as she was, clearly was spent. Her mana levels were extremely low and even her reserves were becoming scarce.
“I understand that cousin. The people need to rest, and while they are doing so, we need to come to a decision. Where do we go? Who will take us in?” Kyra looked around and waited for some suggestions.
“How about Last Chance? Sure it is a town of dangers but a town none the less.” Eleria said softly as her tired eyes focused on the task at hand.
“We cannot go there.” A familiar voice spoke as a Drow entered the tent. Nim’Ruin was a mage of considerable talents, and was the only male to be recognized by the family. He however held an annoying personality but Selena found him to be as loyal as Drow can be. “The Black Witch is within Last Chance. With as tired as you all look, perhaps it isn’t the best thing to have to contend against her magick when we aren’t one hundred percent.” Nim’Ruin spoke in a rather direct tone.
Eleria countered as she smiled at Nim’Ruin. “No one has seen the Black Witch in years. We cannot head to Hel’s Gate either for Shekinah is there hiding. Even if these women are family, I rather deal with the Black Witch over that Lich.”
“Be respectful to your elders Eleria.” Nim’Ruin said softly as he waved his hand. A map of Terrenus laid upon the table. “Last Chance and Hell’s Gate are off the table. We cannot subject these people to the ways of Last Chance and we won’t be able to protect them against the powers lying dormant there. Yh’Mi is also off the table. The Matron is there as we speak, and there is some interference with her magic. She is weaker there, and thus the rest of us will be extremely weakened as well. I say we start looking to the west. There is Casper, Ignatz, Dougton, and Weland.”
“All of those places are heavily guarded and we have no idea if they will even take our numbers? True, they are all Terrens but as we travel I am confident we will pick up more people. We need somewhere far from the center of politics and somewhere where it is safe. Perhaps Baizo Isle?” Kyra said curiously as she touched the top left portion of the map. “A town called Aspyn seems to be the further port from where Tia is.”
Nim’Ruin nodded slightly. “Aspyn from what I heard is a newer city. That however is a long way to travel We will lose many people.”
“We will lose many people with us standing idly by. We will announce our intent and those who wish to travel with us can stay. Those who wish to go to other cities are free to leave. I however think that people will opt to stay then to venture the wilderness alone. We can stop by Dougton on the way and rest, and then head to Weland and then proceed north. We can send emissaries ahead and inform them of the fate of Tia and ask for aid while we are passing through. Until then, Cam’Mia can travel to Biazo Isle with Nim’Ruin to inquire about if they will accept us.” Kyra turned around to look at everyone but it was Nim’Ruin who spoke up again.
“Shall we offer them our school?” He said softly as he met eyes with Kyra.
“If they will have all of us, then yes, we will offer to relocate our school and knowledge there. We cannot betray the trust of the people who are with us. We have to find them a home. Thousands of families depend on it.” Kyra said in finality as Nim’Ruin merely smiled.
“I suppose our Matron was wise to leave you in charge Kyra. You are sometimes the best of us.” He said quickly as he bowed and stepped out of the tent with Cam’Mia following right behind him.
“This is going to be dangerous and long.” Natalie said in passing as she stood up, stretching out.
“We cannot leave these people to die.” Kyra said as she stared towards the tent’s exit.
“No…No we can’t. Get some rest Kyra. You will need it tomorrow. I’ll head out to secure the perimeter. Hopefully the hunters come back soon. “Natalie breathed deeply as she left the tent, leaving Kyra behind to her own thoughts.
Kyra, the woman in charge of the Nichole School of Magic sat by her cot and nearly placed her hands over her face. In all of her years alive, she had never felt so much burden upon her shoulders. She had been to wars upon wars but never was she in charge. She could help but wonder what will happen if she failed? What would happen to her students? Almost all of them held massive potential and if she led them to their deaths, it would be horrific.
Kyra definitely needed help and soon.
@amenities
Summary of Past Events:
The Nichole School of Magic fled Tia via underground tunnels after helping thousands of fleeing citizens. They are looking for a home.

NARRATIVE - THE DRAGON AND ITS SHIP
It was not the first undead dragon to make its way to Kaurilia nor will it be the last. The dead city perhaps has something that attracts these excessively large winged reptiles, these needlessly large winged reptiles even go so far as to make the city their humble home.
What can this elegant yet necrotic scaled beast of death and destruction want with such a lifeless city? Perhaps no one can tell. However, that is not the point of this story. Going back a few hundred years, there was a ship. Not just any ship but the rumored Godhand. It was a thing of beauty but not even the most beautiful and majestic ship can be immune to the curses of Whispernight. And so, one fateful stormy night, as one such grandiose airship happen to pass upon the rumored dead city of Kaurilia when one of the rumored undead dragons seemed to have developed a fancy for such a glorious object.
What can a winged reptile get from a flying airship? Not very much but that did not stop the scaly flying monstrosity from charging at the poor thing. Perhaps this was the last time the airship was seen, at least from Genisarian eyes. It plummeted down to a nearby mountainous region, one that was close to the dead city of Kaurilia. It laid there on that unknown ground, forever lost, forever forgotten. The ship is still in good shape all thanks to its incredibly durable build but with no one to pilot it, it is now just a waste of space and with that undead dragon guarding it, will it every take flight once again?
@King

Treason is not something that is birthed overnight. Like anything worth doing well, it demands time, patience and (above all else) discretion. The Blood of the Light began as little more than a cult of personality, centered around the High Mason, Ocelot Royce, and devoted to seeing his agenda established throughout all of Alterion. It was a subtle shift in power, with the elder Masons more entrenched in religious dogma relocated to outer territories. The militant figures within the Masonry already stood steadfast with Ocelot, many having served alongside him during the ork wars. Winning them to a cause that shone a deific light upon proved a simple task and with the faith militant at their back the Blood of the Light soon found themselves the Majority within the halls of the Cathedral.
It was worth noting that the Masons had not been worth serving for several decades before Ocelot came along. Their devotion to religious dogma gave way to the greed and corruption typical of those so accustomed to power that they couldn't fathom losing it. His rise to power merely brought the corruption to light.
It occurred without warning, absent the pomp and circumstance accustomed to most happenings within the Cathedral. At no particular hour of no particular day, the Crystal spoke and all of Riva’s children felt it in their bones. Word spread from within the house the Masons built as far as the remote Izrali hovels that a terrible creature of staggeringly impossible dimensions eclipsed the sun and darkened the sky for a full minute before disappearing into the Skar. In that brief span of time, nations rose and fell; those territories considering rebellion against the Masons either committed to the Church or made ready for a fight of biblical proportions. With the ‘end of days’ having come and gone, the Masons found their stranglehold over the Alterion populace, a far more precarious grip than anticipated.
Viktus Gallin, heir apparent to Ocelot Royce and formerly a figure in open rebellion against the Masons was welcomed by the Blood of the Light as their messiah—for he, amongst all others, had been hand picked by Ocelot as his successor.
The schism within the church was only further complicated by Viktus’ reappearance within the Cathedral —many of the clergy having called for his execution only a short time ago. At the very least Viktus’ rise to power was no less controversial than that of his foster father’s own.
Now in a position to seize the throne,Viktus and his allies seek to oust the church of any traitors have begun to ‘purge the heretics’ from their ranks.
The blood of traitors must feed the earth.

Important Links
Cult of Power (CoP) Group Page
The Commander's Character Sheet
The Cult's Public OOC
PM to officially join and be added to the Club
OOC Information
This thread will act as the Cult of Power's official hub thread. I won't promise it'll last forever, but should last for a good long time. The start of this Hub Thread is after the Cult's adventures in Genesaris and Renovatio are momentarily over (after the obtainment of Asteria's Crown, the Cornerstones, etc). As any hub thread, your characters can come and go. Some cool things might develop in this thread and require a storyline, or it'll just roll with the punches. Who knows!
There is no required post length or posting order.
Location: Delcore, Terrenus.
Delcore is a medium sized city a few miles east of Hell's Gate. The Cult has a Lunar Castle taken from another group they absorbed called the Fallen which is another few miles east in the Forbidding Hills. We might go there but this thread will start in Delcore. The city itself is controlled and regulated by Paragons, but it's down in a shadow mannerism where Lilith is not involved. Many of the ruling Paragons don't even know she's in the city. What Lilith is doing in Delcore is anyone's guess.
It was a weird sort of feeling, being back in Terrenus after so many months in Genesaris and Renovatio. For so long she'd been focused on accumulating power. Clawing and climbing her way to the top of the world. To a place where no one could so much as reach to the top of her toes, metaphorically speaking of course. Now, however, she was there. More or less. It didn't matter what continent she was on her what foe stood in her way; she was the peak. In a way she always had been but now she absolutely was. The gauntlet of Zengi. The soul cornerstone. The crown of Asteria. The millions of Paragons bearing her mark. The raw, bottomless well of energy constantly stirring through her very being.
She'd reached the goal.
Now what? Get rid of my past lives?
Perhaps. Easier said than done though, or at least one of the previous Lunar Daughters would have already done it. Instead it was almost like they feared the possibility that she'd break the link. As if they had never even considered doing it. Which was probably true. Lilith was a monster even among monsters.
Leaning back she crossed one leg over the other and released a sigh, tapping her index finger on the rim of "her" beer mug. One of the men in the tavern had brought her a drink. If she understood correctly, he was hitting on her. It was almost funny, really. Put a whole new meaning on flirting with death.
The large man had taken a seat next to her, not put off even a little by the red gleam of her eyes or the stink of death that stuck to her like bad karma. Probably that she was a vampire. Or some sort of undead. Maybe he even knew she was a necromancer and just didn't particularly care. He certainly didn't know who she was though. What she was and who she was, though intrinsically linked, tended to have much different impacts on people.
Still... maybe this was what was next for her? Now that was a funny idea. Even the voices of her past lives chuckled in the depths of her mind.
Yeah. Right.
"So pretty lady," the man slurred, reaching out to sling a hand around her shoulder. "What can I do you for?"
A question. A fucking question. Why did mortals ask so many questions?
"You are either an absolute fucking moron," Lilith answer with such venom that the man blinked and nearly physically recoiled, "or your inebriation makes you an extremely horrible judge of character."

Hello and greetings I’ve recently been accepted here and am in need of practicing for possible para rp. This will be my first time doing such a style.What I need is just a small amount of character info and a picture if you are able.Name:Age:Hight:Weight:Eyes:Race:Alliance:Force talents:The primary focus in the beginning will be to see to it that as certain someone gets off Kamino for each of our characters to survive. “Mayday.. mayday... A cloacked man rascally coughs up a little more blood and gasps. “mayday.. calling the Kamino system for.. for emergency medical..” he coughed a bit more. “support.. turning on auto pilot..." A bright red light flickers as he flips a few switches. Upon landing on the platform in the dark and stormy night blood from the wounded male rushes with the water and off the platform. Before passing out from wounds mixed with the damaged armor and the salty rain water he looks at Y/C and asks "and who.. are you?". The worrier collapses and is taken to emergency care by 2 clone troopers.I apologize if if this is really shallow I did come from a Facebook page.

Through the Sigil’s Door
Prelude
Everything rattled. A man vomited into the corner of a dimly light metallic room. Seated everywhere against the walls were men and women of varying degrees of danger, most clocking in at around heavily armed and extremely dangerous. Criminals, mercenaries, people who fought for coin and lacked a sense of honor. The exact people that Miss Blonde the Crime Lord tended to surround herself with. The kind of people who would do anything to get this job done, even if it meant burning down entire towns and leaving a trail of bodies in their wake. These people were on a mission and they had been paid well. Considering the risks they had to be paid generously.
If one were to look out the window they’d see the dark and heavy storm clouds that belted out lightning and screamed thunder. In an massive airships cargo hold, the ship pushed its way through the storm that surrounded a massive portal in the center of this planet. What used to be a chunk of land was swallowed into itself and had become a portal to the multiverse, it was her opportunity to get back home.
”Five minutes to drop!” A voice from the forward compartment yelled.
Standing up Miss Blonde stood at the front of the drop gate. She was short in stature, just a hair short of five feet tall. Yet she carried herself with a deadly seriousness and raw power that radiated off of her body. Facing all those who had decided to join her in this endeavor to secure a package and return it, she would give an operational briefing. So with her gas mask on and her robotic laced voice, Blonde spoke to her temporary employees.
”Half of you will die or go MIA. That’s the best outcome of this mission.” She needed to tell the truth, this was not a moment to sugarcoat anything.
”We will be dropping into a portal that will hopefully send us to a place known as Sigil. It is a city that lays at the center of the multiverse, and when I say hopefully I do mean hopefully. I will be leading the jump and will be the first off the ship, so if you follow me, and you stay on my six, and a breeze or lightning bolt doesn’t take you off course. Then you will be ok. Otherwise you will be lost to the multiverse, and let me make this perfectly clear.” Blonde paused and looked over all their faces.
”Neither myself or anyone in my employ will come back for you. You are on your own and I expect that all of you would do the same for me. No matter what happens to me, you will complete the mission. Mission specifics will become unlocked in your data devices that you have been provided once we push through the portal. So make your peace with whatever god you subscribe to because this is it people.” Her briefing was short, unceremonious, and only slightly depressing. Yet it was what needed to be said.
”Four minutes!!” The forward voice shouted once again.
As everyone readied themselves, they would be provided with an portable inflatable raft and a parachute should they get blown off course or decide to leave. It was really more of a formality and safety blanket. This was after all a giant portal in the middle of the ocean, so chances were they wouldn’t come in handy. If anyone were to look over to Blonde they’d see her forgo the emergency supplies and just take what was most important. A rather body shaped sub machine-gun and a bandolier of grenades and ammo strapped across her black jacket. She was ready.
As for everyone else. They had about four minutes until they would jump into hell.

NOTICE
Hub in Use MTPD
The Buffer
MTPD Headquarters
(Martial Town Police Department)
Detective Parean Parean
Music
The Drain Detective
It had taken a sloshing crater of a puddle to convince Parean to put his cigarette out beneath his umbrella. The latter had done enough to shield the flame but getting his shoe soaked had ruined his appetite to smoke. It was pouring out, the night cold, with the stars a hazy overhead amid the city’s smog and sure to remain that way these few hours past evening. Reaching the sidewalk after crossing the street, he checked his watch: just past nine o’clock. I’m on time. At least that’s something. On time, the first time, and the first night in Martial Town. It was every bit as vibrant and lethargic, dead and lively, as he had heard. A paradox. Just like me.
The city’s suburbs had been quite a contrast to its central areas. All of Martial Town was walled on the outside, some parts in, while the outer wall was as much to protect the people inside as the people outside, though which one was more than the other Parean didn’t know. There was a lot to hear and a lot to say about this city, most of it not great. The settlement’s small handful of gates at the wall were guarded checkpoints. Tunnels in their own way, they posed a kind of duality between these access points into the city proper and the surrounding districts and neighborhoods that were clearly suffering the worst; neglected, abandoned, the residents left to ‘police’ themselves. As a visitor, Parean was still working out what to make of it all. Amid all of it, though, it was a night like tonight that the Neon City really shined. Lights of its nicknamesake were lit up everywhere, from the outer limits to the inner. A giant, flickering lightbulb.
Those peripheral areas were simply and collectively referred to as the Peripherals. They led deeper into the city—a ring of blocks called the Buffer, an evident shorthand for “Buffer Zone”. It was a fitting name. This area was largely neutral, serving as a wedge between the Peripherals and the heart of Martial Town: the Core. The latter was its own walled district, militarized and policed by the city government’s own armed force. That left the majority policing of the Buffer to the Martial Town Police Department. There was much and more to learn about this city that never sleeps, but Parean only really needed to know that which pertained to his being here.
Standing beneath the roof of the MTPD Headquarters, a complex of drenched buildings, he lowered his umbrella, content that the rest of his outfit, including his best friend of a brown trenchcoat, was hardly hit by a drop. Debating with himself whether to light up his cigarette then and there, Parean grumbled over his own refusal. A few hoodlums were looking his way as he pocketed the unlit cigarette between his lips, but they weren’t worth any effort either. On his way into town, he had learned that the crime rate of the Buffer rested somewhere in the middle between the high end of the Peripherals and the low end of the Core—it was certainly still there, a deal more so than in other settlements, but no idiot was going to start a fight outside of a police station. Of which I better waste no more time and head inside.
Ambience
Through the doors, Parean was greeted by the hustle and bustle of police hands just like one would be in any law enforcement station in a big city like Martial Town. Unintelligible conversations were strung together like split wires, phones were ringing like a symphony out of sync and keyboards were going tap-tap-tap amid the click-click-clack of unpolished shoes. If the lobby was this busy, the offices on all floors that exceeded ten were likely no different.
“Hey, hey hey!” Parean’s brow perked at the voice of a man coming his way with rolled sleeves and a tie as loose as his own. “What’re you trying to do, drown the building!? Ezmo, get this guy a towel, will ya!?”
Parean could only blink as a lobby hand, some twenty-year-old named Ezmo, chucked a towel at his face. He caught it before it hit his face but still felt confused. The speaker just stood there waiting, shaking his head, then nodding in the way that one wants to hurry someone else up. Finally, it all clicked.
“Oh. Right. Sorry about that. Damn puddles.” With that, Parean went about drying off his left lower leg and the dress shoe at the base of it, though his sock would have to suffer. “Thanks. Here you go.” He chucked the wet towel back toward Ezmo. It hit his face.
“SHIT! YA JERK!”
Parean shrugged in apology.
“All right, all right, knock it off!” The first man spoke, still standing there with his hands on his hips. Must be the bouncer around here. “Ezmo, go get those files I asked about twenty minutes ago! And make sure that pot is brewing, damn it!” He looked Parean’s way.
“The hell you doing still standing there!? This is a police station. Either make a police case, or go station yourself back in the rain. I got work to do! Sheesh!”
The man walked away and that was that. Parean just stood standing, his umbrella in one hand, his free hand slick with rainwater. Well, guess I better find the captain who decided that it was a smart idea to hire me as a private investigator. He had caught a job through his PI connections of a serial killer on the loose in the Buffer. It was a rainy season, and this particular animal liked to drown his victims, or so recent reports went. Parean would find out soon enough as he made his way throughout the lobby and headed toward the elevators, smelling coffee along the way. One cup. It won't hurt. No more than a wet sock.

Much had changed since Feurerkönig had ventured into the land known as Terrenus. Battles had been fought, with many of them resulting in the defeat of the tyrannical lord of cinders. After finally being taken in by the Gaianists of the Terran Empire, Feurerkönig had suffered great indignities at the hands of the mortals. Days of torturous experiments followed, his enemies hell bent on discovering the secrets of his powers, and how to counter them effectively. By the time they were finished, Feurerkönig felt stripped of his pride, his dignity, his very essence of what it means to be a warrior. Such was the beginning of a low point in his life.
The worst of it all was that they had released him, allowing him to live in this shame inflicted upon him. Satisfied they could defeat whatever attempt the fiery king could throw at them, they unceremoniously dumped him back into Genesaris. Never before had he felt so weak, so powerless, so much lesser than everything else.
Now that he was back in his homeland, he felt so very...empty inside. It was a long trek back to the Kriegsschmeide, one that he felt a sense of defeat at every step. Even as his warriors greeted him, he didn't feel like the warlord that desired the destruction of this world. Though they did not possess the will to rebel against him, he could feel the loss of respect emanating from their spirits. Their fearless leader, reduced to a cowering mess.
"Bring me new armor." He commanded, watching as his slaves went to work forging his new armor. The Gaianists stole so much from him, even his own metal shell to examine the War Metal.
Great clouds of black smoke were streaming from the Kriegsschmeide, as if showing its dissatisfaction at its own champion. "To hell with you." He said, pulling himself to his throne, looking out at the charred landscape of his domain. A king without his crown, a warrior without his pride, a conqueror wallowing in defeat. It was pathetic, but it was all he had for the moment. In defeat he would lick his wounds, rethink his next move, and Marshall his forces for a new campaign, one that would allow him the power he needed to bring fury down upon his enemies.
"Perhaps it is time to go hunting..."

NOTICE
Music
Image
The Man in the Black Mantle
Last Chance. A riot for the fans. In the darkness of the night, hands wear the black gloves of madness. Laughter in the slaughter after injuring the daughter. Blade to the tits, spade into bits. Kill the bitch. Scratch an itch and tickle the twitch. Stop squirming like a fish! Soak your nose in coke from my coat. So stoned, you come to know my joke. I am one sick bloke. Squeezing a throat, a pleasing choke. Cough!-Cough!-Cough! goes the ho. Hahahahahahaaa!
Close your eyes and try and picture a modern day Jack the Ripper. Scouring the streets with an undone zipper. A half moon is tonight’s yin-yang in the sky, one bright side that illuminates an alley of escape for Blueberry as she runs, one dark side scoffing at the noise of her heels as they invite fun. Fun. Blueberry is running from fun.
“Waaaahhhh!!!”
Wah!-Wah!-Wah! This is a loud one. Why does she run from fun? Fun? Fun. One. One being. One entity. Me. I am Fun. Click-clack goes the composed footsteps of polished boots, black like the paws of a hellhound as it paces toward its prey. Arms are concealed within the dark depths of a mantle, though with limbs that just might shoot out to snatch a handful. As the figure walks and stalks, the flaps of its coat slightly spread to reveal red on the inside of the cloak. Top hat sits atop a head, the figure’s eyes like a ghoul’s gaze of dead butterflies; irises black, the night’s darkness swimming in them for a heart attack. Facial expression as pallid as the moon’s pale complexion.
The woman calls out with a shout, limbs dangling in her girly jog through the fog, hopping like a frog to escape the hunt. Stupid cunt!
“Waaaahhhh!!! No, sir! Don’t come any closer!”
“Can you cry any slower?”
I smile with glee. Yes, I admit it. My grin is pretty fucking twisted. Like my mind in this fine moment as I own it. Right hand is withdrawn from black cloth, brandishing the hilt of a gleaming khanjar beneath a twinkling red star. The Blueberry bitch with an itch turns her head of oceanic blue hair and snaps her head back for a frightened stare. She gasps at the sight of the blade that bears her name, and he licks the tip with a too-long tongue of be-tasting-you begging her for just a drip. The woman’s stalker need only walk to her, knowing she was heading nowhere besides a dead end with an absent prayer. The alley moaned and groaned with graveyard doom as it offered a shovel to this woman with her gloom, laughing like an old man in a rocking chair with a beer can. Here, so you can dig your own grave and twitch, you blue-eyed bitch!
Doom.
Now she was doomed. Tripping over one of her blue shoes, the woman tumbles forward, falling on her belly, nose busting on the concrete and turning into jelly. She screams. Against her tears, a cackle clasps the atmosphere; the musings of a malevolent mind with no time for mercy in this game of cutthroat controversy. Black boots walk the red rug of blood, knife held out, fingers coiled around hilt with no doubt. The creeper creeps closer, as graceful as a symphony's composer. Blueberry begins to crawl away, sobbing uncontrollably, hoping to live to the next day. Pleas of rescue going unheard in this dark and dank alleyway. Go on and squeak, little bird. Cry for your dad. There in the hell fair of La Ultima Opportunidad.
In an instant, a hand seizes a fistful of blue hair, producing a shrill cry of pain in vain like a beaten mare. Soft, feminine hands clutch the man’s black hand. But he didn't want to dance. He straddlers her like a lover, knees dig into her ribs. She kicks and flails wildly, head craned up stylishly, hair pulled toward the sky that night.
“Now, go ahead and scream, lovely. Scream like the whore you are. Scream for me.”
The command was deific as the woman's tears stained her youthful visage. Kneeling just above this harlot’s swaying body, the man in the top hat just wasn't feeling that kind of naughty. He wasn't here to play cupid. He had no drive for white fluid. What he wanted was a little more red. He just wanted this squirming bitch dead.
“P-Please, mister! D-Don’t kill me! Don’t…DON’T DO—“
Skluch. Razor sharp blade slit the bitch’s throat, blood spewing out like she were just some stuck pig or goat. Smiling, the Man in the Mantle keeps his victim’s head held up against her upchuck of blood. The knife falls to the ground with a clinging sound. His fingers grasp his top hat and remove it. There in the moonlit air there is no hair at all. This man was bald.
A black cat creeps forward, green eyes like emeralds as they serve as haunting heralds. As a feline tongue laps at the puddle of blood, the Man in the Mantle accepts this cat’s invitation like he was on vacation. In a flash of thirst, he jerks his opened mouth to the dying woman’s neck, his former friend. The cat watches, it blinks, and the man drinks. The end.

In the town of Spalding, not far from Tia...
The wind was blowing. Swishing and whooshing like a wolf trying to blow down a brick house built by pigs, swooshing and swirling like a merry-go-round spinning underwater (okay a merry-go-around probably wouldn't work properly while submerged but this is a simile so screw the rules), blowing and blowing and blowing like a particularly enthusiastic gay man going to town on his boyfriend. It was, one could say... a windy day.
But little did anyone know, that this wind, in all its windy windiness, was carrying:
DEATH!!!!
***
The outskirts of Spalding.
Two mustachioed gentlemen sat together on a log, gazing at the sky.
The pair were birdwatchers, you see, and it had become a favorite pastime of theirs to stroll out of town on occasion to take a gander at the local avian fauna, which they would identify and catalogue for their own entertainment. Today was no exception: their eyes were glued to their binoculars, which in turn scanned back and forth in the hopes of catching a stray pair of wings for the two men to gawk at in tandem.
"I say!" one said at last, "Jerome! Have a look at this fine specimen!"
Jerome swiveled his binoculars in the direction indicated. His eyes widened behind the glass lenses at he caught sight of a... a... goodness, what the devil was that?
"Ah... yes... a fine specimen indeed..."
"A thick-billed budgerigar, perhaps?"
Jerome laughed. "Oh, so one might think! But budgerigars only have two eyes, do they not? Whereas this fellow here has three! As such, it can only be a Triclopean Goshawk."
"Aren't goshawks bigger than that?"
"Well, yes, but... it could be a juvenile."
The other man frowned, and squinted again. "What's with those purple clouds coming off it, then?"
"Perhaps a bad case of flatulence?"
The two men chuckled merrily as the strange bird flew over them. They chuckled merrily as they wiped their brows with handkerchiefs, and turned their eyes back to the open skies. They chuckled merrily as they ignored the tiny purplish particles trailing down in the mutant bird's wake and settling around them, seeping in through their mouths and nostrils and infecting their respective bloodstreams.
They chuckled merrily, as they tore each other to shreds in the throes of bloodthirsty rage.
***
The mutant bird flew on, and Maleficence spooled down in its wake, dispersed onto the winds with every flap of its twisted wings. All throughout the town of Spalding, people began to twitch, their eyes going bloodshot as something vile and vicious began to seep into their veins. First came the shouts, and then came the screams...
...and then came the shriek of an old woman, who roused amidst the tumult and fumbled for the wooden staff that leaned against the wall by her bedside.
"Doggone it, not again!"

A Night To Remember
A woman of pale skin and deep red hair danced. Choreographed and in sync with the booming music of a loud party that smelled of affluence and greed. She danced. She danced for Money. She danced for attention. She danced because she had to. She danced to survive.
A cityscape of lights, buildings, and a patchwork of lives and stories were the backdrop to a party taking place on a hillside manor that hung tightly to the cliff it was built upon. It’s rich and artful design reeked of money gained from less than admirable revenues. Yet that didn’t bother her.
Miss Blonde watched the young woman from the sidelines. With a stiff drink in her hand, the Crime Lord took a hard swig before turning to the right and moving away from the cliffside deck that overlooked the vast cityscape of Hellsgate. It was all too familiar to her. The chatting around the pool, the lights, the fake laughter, the hedonism. She had grown up in a world like this, and she had grown tired of it. She had grown tired of the parties and the people who gussied themselves up for a night of vanity self indulgence. A night of whose who and whose wearing what label. It was all so very superficial.
Yet, she was here. She was here for a reason. One that was beyond the vanity and glitz of the evening. Solomon the PlanesWalker, a man who could navigate dimensions from what she was told. A man who could help her achieve the goal that had eluded her for these last few months. A man who she intended to either hire or force into her service. Though Miss Blonde wasn’t alone in this task, she was with someone who had given her hope. She was with Jack, a man who she loved and had become quickly enamored with as she spent more and more time in this realm. So much so that she didn’t want to return home.
Spotting him at the bar in the living room of this manor, she stepped past the random pairings of people finding love for the evening. She pushed past the haze of smoke and illicit drugs that were being smoked and injected. She walked steadily to find Jack at the bar and stand next to him. Her dark metallic mask stared up at him and he’d be able to tell that she was concerned. The guest of honor had yet to arrive and despite all her planning, it all came down to whether or not some drunken debauched wizard decided to come to a party.
”Keep your eyes open. I imagine there’s a lot of people here who are dealing with their own business tonight.”!Her robotic laced voice said to Jack before downing her drink and ordering another from the barkeep.
Tonight was going to go south. She could feel it in her bones.
@danzilla3

For the first time... ever... Thurgood and Aveline Singlance took a rigid aerostat to the very well illuminated commercial city. It cost significantly more to do so, but Aveline brought her F-350 along with a thirty-foot gooseneck flatbed trailer that was enclosed until a hydra neck flattened it. The only reason it's servicable now is because of a lot of wood and bolts. The tires don't even have air: they're filled with dried grasses that more or less serve the same function. But Port Sun is a large city, and would be slow to travel on foot. Besides, how would they get the cargo back to Lunaris from Casper? Unfortunately, all the airships departing from anywhere on Ursa Madeum were completely crammed for months.
What brought them here though, is their rapidly dwindling supply of soda syrup Thurgood brought back on his last (most likely ever) trip to Gaia Prime. So they need to find a source on Valucre. In the process, they hope to perhaps make some business connections, so once their industrial projects in Ursa Madeum start producing, they may find buyers. First order of business though, is to convert their Terran precious metallic coin into Renovatian gemstone coin. So once again, the diesel engine growls as it powers the truck, trailer, and siblings through the underground tunnels into the city proper.
@Thotification @SteamWarden

The Deus Ex Machina
<-These grounds are within my own mind. Long gone are the trap doors for my pride to constrict me to. I have been time displaced, micro managed by hands that are not my own. I feel that each interpretation of myself has attempted to stop me from realizing my full potential. Whatever secret they know about my actions, I want to experience them as well and see for myself. It's ignorant to continue to stay a slave to what I've been told. A puppet on strings...no longer. No longer will I allow my peace to be stifled by regret and wonder. I have to release this blade, wield it with my own hands, take control, and pull the wool from over everyones' eyes. Once I do this, all the mercy I've shown will be undone. I am reversing a choice I am meant to live with. I am asking for both Eternals to go to war on this planet...
The good news is...the pockets of space time distortion all about this world will open gates that restore a portion of the power I used to seal the worlds. These thresholds can grant me access to so much more. I cannot just taste true power and leave it buried. If I collect from the time distortions....I can become whole again...it'll be at the expense of peace on this planet. Well, I dont owe this planet anymore labor, anymore nursing, anymore passes! This is about me now and I want my glory back! This planet has taken everything from me and I can't prosper from it? I cant have the spotlight? No, my power is my own. I will take it back. This feeling has me trembling with excitement. I have never been so power hungry, but now.... after struggling to kill a single succubus...I want this....I fucking NEED this.
Before I am spent...I believe it's time to bring The Deus Ex Machina back to reality..->
-Time distortions appear throughout the world as the sword is removed from the stone. Treasures, Ruins, strange creatures, mythical beings, and infinite amounts of possibilities pour out. Overtime lands were changing, some from peril, some from fortune. A day goes by before the conjoined worlds' curiosities became an attraction. -

Deep within the land amongst the hustle and bussle of a market towns in the remote floating isles. A hidden gem amongst those who kept their noses burried in their research only dream of, a black market for all of those not so easy to find articles that most shops wouldnt dare sell.
Emmeline, made her way through the crowded market of the hidden city. She was in search of a black herb known of coal ivy said to grow where those of unatural life have been spawned. This toxic little plant made a kick to her explosive potions so that the undead would slowly fall apart after being hit with the potion of her perfected recipie.
Though this was only one of the many rare finds she has on her shoping list. The chime of her potion bottle rang as she walked her cloak over her brightly purple hair. Her pale blue iris scanning over the stslls as she passed nothing struck yer fancy... yet.